Uchiha from This Day Forward

Dawn had not fully broken, and the fog over White Wax Island was thick.

Barlow tucked the ledger into his clothes. He had little to pack; the few things he owned—a sea chart, compass, Beli, and flintlock—had been taken out yesterday and divided into four portions. He carried the heaviest share himself.

Mila slid her short knife into her belt. She had replaced the hemp cord wrapped around its hilt; the old one had frayed, while the new one was tightly and neatly wound.

She carried a large backpack, then took several pieces of dry bread from the stove, wrapped them in cloth, and stuffed them inside.

Roy stood at the door, a short knife at his waist and the Tomoe in his pocket. He had nothing else to bring.

The three of them pushed open the door. Fog rushed toward them, carrying the bitter scent of white wax leaves and the salty tang of the sea. Dew had soaked the dirt road, making it slightly soft beneath their feet.

Footsteps sounded behind them.

Damian came down the stairs. He wore the clothes he usually wore to the docks, his sleeves rolled above his forearms, an old coat draped over his shoulder.

He stopped behind the three of them. Barlow looked back at him.

"Aren't you taking a different road?"

Damian pulled the coat closer around his shoulders. "Now is the time to improve things for the Household, not the time to chase ideals."

Barlow looked at him, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. He said nothing, turned around, and the four of them headed toward the workshop together.

The workshop door was already open.

Marcus stood in the doorway. He held neither plane nor saw, his hands hanging at his sides, covered in calluses from labor.

Morning mist settled on his shoulders, leaving a faint damp stain across his dark coarse-cloth shirt.

He looked at his four children, from Damian to Barlow, from Barlow to Roy, from Roy to Mila.

"I knew this day would come."

His voice was the same as always, neither high nor low, as if he were merely saying it might rain today.

"Come with me."

He turned and walked into the white wax forest. Not the woods behind the house where they trained, but in another direction, following a small path beside the workshop that cut diagonally through an older, denser stretch of white wax trees.

The four children followed behind him. They had never taken this path before.

After walking for a while, they emerged from the woods and reached the shore.

A ship was moored by the sea.

It was taller and wider than a fishing boat, its lines from keel to deck as smooth as a resting fish.

Its hull was made from white wax wood, its grain fine and dense, gleaming with a pale silver sheen in the morning light—the luster produced only by repeated polishing.

Its bow rose slightly. It had a single mast, its sail currently furled, the off-white canvas folded with meticulous neatness.

The gunwales were not high, but their curves were clean and sharp.

Mila was the first to react.

"Dad, didn't you say you could only repair ships, not build them?"

Marcus stood beside the ship and patted the white wax planks of its hull. The wood gave a low, solid sound.

"You children always had ideas from the day you were born." His hand remained on the hull.

"When Damian was seven, he said he wanted to work at the docks, and no one could stop him. Barlow started bringing home old newspapers when he was six, sitting alone in a corner to read them without saying a word afterward. Roy followed Barlow everywhere; whatever Barlow did, he did too. Mila dared to fight boys in town several years older than her when she was five, just because one of them said girls couldn't climb trees. Every one of you had bigger ideas than the last. No one could stop you."

His hand left the hull and fell to his side.

"Ever since you found that Tomoe, I knew this day would come sooner or later."

There was a moment of silence.

"At first, I threw it away not because it was unlucky, but because I was afraid. I've repaired ships for most of my life. These hands have repaired fishing boat hulls, merchant ship keels, and naval warships. I know how much weight a piece of wood can bear. I know how long a joint can hold. But I didn't know what that Tomoe was, and I didn't know where it would take my four children."

His hand slowly stroked the hull, as though feeling a piece of timber that had not yet dried.

He turned back to look at his four children.

"You weren't the only ones having strange dreams this past year."

All four children looked at him at once.

He paused.

"In my dream, I saw a man standing atop a towering tree. Black spheres floated behind him, and there was another eye in the center of his forehead. It looked much like the Sharingan you described, but more complex. He looked down upon the world beneath his feet like a king."

"Then a black hand pierced through his chest from behind."

"He thought that thing was his own strength, a part of his will. But then it told him, 'You were never the player. You were a piece on the board from the very beginning.'"

Mila's fingers tightened slightly.

"That man stood so high and possessed such immense power, yet in that final moment, he was no different from any ordinary person who had been deceived and betrayed. He looked down at the hand protruding from his chest. Beyond rage, his eyes held even more unwillingness."

"He had spent decades laying his plans and walking his path, believing he was playing the game. In the end, he discovered he had always been a piece on someone else's board. In the dream, I could feel that unwillingness as though it were my own."

"Later, I had that dream again and again. Every time, it ended at the same place: he fell from that towering tree, and a blood-red moon turned above him. Then the image shattered into countless fragments. Every fragment showed a different person, a different era, a different Uchiha, but they all had one thing in common."

"They all gave their power to others—to villages, to close friends, to hatred, to something greater than themselves. And then they were all devoured by that greater thing."

Marcus turned around to face his four children directly.

"I don't know what Uchiha truly means. Those red eyes, those flames and sword techniques, the things you learned in your dreams—I don't understand them. But I do know that once you accepted this power, you were destined to never live out your lives like ordinary people again. You will sail the seas, travel to distant places, and encounter things I cannot even imagine."

His gaze passed over each of his four children's faces.

"I don't know what path you will take in the future. But there is one thing the man in that dream made me understand clearly: no matter which path you walk, no matter where you go, we are family. That matters more than anything."

He stepped forward.

"No matter which side you choose to stand on in the future."

"No matter which seas you expand your business across."

"No matter how far you go in pursuit of strength."

His gaze swept across the faces of his four children once more, then withdrew.

"No matter which road you take in the future."

His voice was not loud, but every word drove into the wood like a white wax wedge.

"Remember this: behind you stand each other, beside you stand each other, and your roots lie in the same place. White Wax Island will always have your backs. I will always have your backs. This Household will always have your backs."

"And preserving the Lineage, protecting your family—will always come before everything else."

The woods remained quiet for a long time. The morning fog began to thin, and shafts of sunlight fell through gaps in the canopy, lighting Marcus's graying temples and the silent faces of his four children.

"This ship has been under construction since the month you found that Tomoe. I repaired fishing boats by day and built this by night. After more than a year, it is finally finished."

"These past few days, I have thought about many things."

"The man who fell from the God Tree was named Madara Uchiha. I saw him in my dreams countless times. He was wrong for nearly his entire life, but there was one thing he did not get wrong: the Uchiha should not depend on anyone. The Uchiha's Sharingan should open for the Uchiha, and the Uchiha's power should remain in Uchiha hands."

"He gave us power. We should give something in return."

"Since fate has chosen us, then from this day forward, we shall be called—"

"Uchiha."